Decompression
by ndj35
Summary: Damien Scott gets a taste of his own medicine. Shameless Scott/OC PWP, rated M for language and adult themes, i.e. smut.


_Author's note: I was asked to write some PWP smut for Damien Scott by a good friend of mine. Happy to oblige…_

 _If you enjoy, please review. Writers love feedback, truly._

 **Decompression**

After a bloody fight, Damien Scott wanted to fuck. It was that simple. Cause and effect. He had no doubt that a shrink would enjoy ripping that argument apart, but in his opinion he was just wired that way. And that was the problem when the brass insisted on putting him up in a swanky hotel in a country like Singapore – it was all that much harder to find a woman who wanted exactly what he did. Well, to find one who didn't expect to be paid for it, anyway, and he wouldn't do that on principle. And he definitely wouldn't fuck a girl who thought there was going to be more, because that wasn't fair, and he had a pretty strong sense of fairness, no matter what certain other people might say. All of which was a roundabout way of explaining why he was still sitting in the hotel bar after two hours, and not already pounding a willing participant into the mattress.

He was starting to think about moving location, somewhere where the drinks were marginally cheaper and the clientele a little younger and less well heeled, when a woman with potential finally walked into the bar. She wasn't old, she definitely wasn't ugly, she was alone, and there was no ring. Plus, she was wearing jeans, which ruled out her being a professional. Well, that and the fact that she didn't look local. Golden brown wavy hair, killer curves, incredibly sexy mouth… And about to take a seat next to him at the bar.

"Hello." Her smile was more like a smirk.

"Hello yourself." He took a second to appreciate those curves close up.

"I thought I might know you," She gestured to the barman to pour her a shot of what Scott was having, which was neat Scotch. "But I think I just know your type."

For a second he thought maybe she was a professional after all, but he dismissed it. Not dressed like that – jeans, tank top, flipflops – and not with that British accent. "What type would that be?"

"Here for a good time, not a long time?" She suggested in a slightly mocking tone, and he laughed, chinking his glass with hers.

"That line tend to work for you?" He asked.

"You'd be surprised." She replied drily, and knocked back her drink in one.

"Want to get out of here?" He hazarded, and it was her turn to laugh.

"That line work for you?"

"Almost always." He knocked back his own Scotch and held her gaze, staring her down, daring her to look away.

She didn't, and he watched a slow smile spread over her face. "Well, come on then." She said, raising her eyebrows. "You've got me curious now."

"You're staying here?" He checked.

"I assumed you were." She replied, and he respected that. She didn't want him to know where she was staying? Not a problem.

"Right upstairs." He confirmed.

She stood beside him in the elevator, staring straight ahead, only a tiny hint of a smirk betraying what they were heading upstairs to do, and he couldn't resist sliding his hand around her waist, then dropping lower, tracing over her very fine ass. Other than her smirk widening a little, she didn't react at all, and that was kind of a turn on. This woman was in control, and it was pretty fucking hot.

He let them both into his room and she headed straight for the minibar, tossing him a miniature bottle of Scotch and opening and downing one herself. He followed suit, then almost choked on it as she stripped her tank top over her head, exposing impressively full breasts in a black lace bra.

"You don't waste time, huh?" He managed, and she shook her head.

"Not when I've got an itch that needs scratching. And I'm not talking about the mosquito bites I got in the bloody jungle."

He was about to ask which jungle, but she stepped close and wrapped her arms around his neck, so he just kissed her instead, pulling her flush against his body and reaching for the clasp of her bra as their tongues duelled and the kiss became fierce.

He barely paused to pull his t-shirt over his head, and both pairs of jeans came off as they stumbled towards the bed. He wasn't a fan of underwear, and she was wearing something so scrappy it barely qualified for that title, so they were both naked by the time they hit the mattress.

There was definitely a part of him that wanted to get straight to the main event, but something about her confidence made him want to impress her, and besides, with a body like that to play with, doing a little exploring was far from a hardship.

He cupped her breast, and bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth, using his teeth and appreciating her gasp as she arched into his touch. He knew women, and everything he'd seen of this one so far told him that what she wanted was a little rough and tumble, so as he moved downwards, he grabbed her thighs and held them apart, plunging his tongue into her without preamble.

"Yes!" She affirmed, and he grinned to himself as he replaced his tongue with his fingers, moving to lave her clit instead. Her hips bucked upwards against his mouth, and he answered by increasing the pressure, moving his fingers faster, and was rewarded by a fresh gush of sweet moisture as she arched and cried out something incoherent.

Trying not to grin too smugly, he planted a kiss on her stomach, gave her nipple a soft bite, and drew himself up over her, ready to drive home inside of her. His eyes met hers, and then her mouth curved into a wicked kind of smile as she wrapped her legs around him, her hands finding a grip on his shoulders.

And then she flipped him with the speed and ease of a martial artist, landing above him in the perfect position to sink down onto his cock.

"Fuck me!" He choked out in surprise as she began to move with fluid grace.

"That's the plan," She panted, and for a second they shared a laugh, but then she started to ride him harder, and he lifted his hips to match her movements, the pace becoming frantic. He watched as she held her own breasts, then as her fingers dropped to rub her clit. He thought briefly about knocking her hand away and taking over, but the sight was just too damn arousing, and he needed all of his concentration not to disgrace himself by going off too soon.

He grabbed her hips instead, pulling her down harder, pushing deeper, the movement of her hand between her legs becoming frantic, and then she shouted out, threw her head back, and the violent squeezing of her inner muscles robbed him of any last hint of control as he shot deep inside her.

She collapsed down onto him, her head coming to rest on his chest, and he stroked a hand over her sweaty hair, his breathing coming in pants as he tried to regain his senses.

"Fucking hell." He said softly, and then there were a few moments of peace, her body resting soft and pliant on his, the only sound in the room their gradually slowing breaths. He was about to wrap his arms around her when she stirred.

"Thanks, I needed that." She abruptly rolled off of him and got up from the bed, reaching for her underwear.

"You can stay-" He started to protest, but she turned and gave him a look as she pulled on her jeans.

"Come on, we both know better than that."

Actually, Scott kind of enjoyed a warm body in bed beside him, and he wouldn't have minded a night with hers, but he certainly wasn't going to share that right now. "You got rules, huh?" He asked instead.

"Oh yeah. Don't you?" She raised an eyebrow and he held up his hands in surrender.

"Yes, ma'am." For a second he thought about asking her name, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be forthcoming.

She was fully dressed now, and she glanced into the mirror as she tied her hair into a ponytail. "I find it prevents complications. When you're the kind of person who moves around a lot and isn't looking for a happy ever after."

He snorted with recognition. "I guess that's fair. Just tell me one thing," He couldn't help himself. "Are you military?"

She laughed slightly. "Nope."

He waited for a second, but she clearly wasn't going to tell him anything more, so he shrugged and let it go.

"Why do you ask?" She said suddenly, glancing back at him.

"Just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, remember?" She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "It was nice knowing you, soldier boy. Maybe run into you in another bar sometime." And before he could retort or refute, she was gone.

 _P.S. If you've read my Chuck story 'One Night in Washington', then this OC is going to seem terribly familiar… Yes, it's her, and this is set a few months earlier. In fact, you'll find she acknowledges this very liaison in Chapter 7._


End file.
